


A Chance Meeting at Jake's

by bushlaboo



Category: General Hospital, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, F/M, First Meetings, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 23:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2790941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bushlaboo/pseuds/bushlaboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester meet Emily Quartermaine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Chance Meeting at Jake's

**Author's Note:**

> I've recently joined AO3 for all the wonderful stories in my newest (and possibly greatest) obsession _Arrow_ (and Olicity). It has been FOREVER since I've written anything, but _Arrow_ has ideas percolating. Until I can settle on one (they've been jumping all over the place) I thought I'd polish up an old story I wrote for a friend's birthday **years** (seriously it's been SEVEN years - how the heck did that happen?) ago because seeing no stories in my profile makes me feel lame. Like really, really LAME. Also, I didn't want to post something that was already up on my [FanFiction.net](https://www.fanfiction.net/~bushlaboo) page. Only the three most amazing Mind-Twins have taken a gander at this, as they are the only ones I've known who thought to ship _General Hospital_ 's Emily Quartermaine and _Supernatural_ 's Dean Winchester. The four of us know that they are the greatest thing to never happen.
> 
> Does anyone even remember what was happening on _GH_ and _Supernatural_ seven years ago? No, didn't think so ... timelines mean nadda.

The crunch of gravel under her feet was a welcomed sound. The quiet of the cab she’d taken only left her to stew and that’s exactly what she didn’t need. She didn’t need to think about Nikolas and how he pushed her away – and faked a romance with Robin – to protect her. Noble as his intentions had been, they infuriated Emily. Hadn’t she handled herself during the hostage crisis at the Metro Court? Hadn’t she been put in the untenable position of having to choose between her father and best friend?  
  
Emily could admit to herself that she had snapped when shots rang out after her father left the hotel, but she pulled herself together. She stuck by Robin and saw to it, with Nikolas’ help, that she got out of the Metro Court alive. “I performed surgery with a pen knife and assistance over the phone,” she grumbled to herself.  
  
She had no idea how everyone got this idea in their heads that she was some delicate flower in need of protection. Emily cursed under her breath when her foot hit a stone funny and her ankle turned. She managed to steady herself before she fell, and thought; _stupid heels_. The thought continued on: stupid dress, stupid date, stupid Nikolas.  
  
As much as she loved him, Emily knew giving Nikolas another chance wasn’t the intelligent thing to do. It became painfully obvious after the whole Robin-Romance Debacle that Nikolas didn’t trust her. Not enough to let her stand by him and face whatever life threw at them, certainly not enough to tell her the truth. What kind of lasting relationship could they have without trust? Even her parents, who bickered and cheated, had been willing to share their flaws and the ups-and-downs of life together. She wanted that kind of relationship, preferably without the cheating.  
  
Thinking of her parents led to thoughts of her father and Emily could feel her tears building up. She missed him. She missed what she thought she had with Nikolas. She missed the life she thought she was going to have when she arrived back in Port Charles with Nikolas and Spencer triumphant over Helena. So much had changed since then, including herself.  
  
Letting out an exasperated sigh, Emily tried to calm herself. It was pointless to be upset. At least that’s how Jason would see it. You couldn’t change what happened; you could only deal with the consequences. Nikolas thought they could fix things; that they could get back to a good place. Though she had her doubts, she agreed to try because of the history between them. She had loved him so long, in one way or another, Emily knew it would be impossible to stop.  
  
Going back, trying to recapture the past, however, was no longer an option. The heavy handed date Nikolas took her on tonight proved that to her. His excuses for his actions rang hollow and quite frankly she was tired of having to forgive people for protecting her for her own good.  
  
So she was starting over tonight. A fresh start – no Nikolas, no preconceived notions about where her life was heading, romantically or otherwise; and most importantly no more holding back. When she was a teenager she’d spoken her mind, too freely or so Grandfather had complained, but back then no treated her like glass. If it was going to take attitude for people in her life to realize that she could handle herself, then so be it. Attitude she could do.  
  
Feeling confident in her decision Emily stepped into Jake’s to drink to her new path.  
  
\---  
  
J. Geils was playing on the jukebox with the odd beat of pool ball clanks sounding when Dean caught sight of the brunette walking through the door. She caught his attention and held it. It was more than the fact that she, in her designer dress and diamond studs, looked out of place in the dingy bar. There was no denying that she was looker either, but what really caught Dean’s eye was the way she moved – with graceful purpose. He knew by looking at her that she was out of his league, way out. Still that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate the view; and what a view, he thought as his eyes skimmed down her body. The strapless tangerine dress she wore hung to her mid-thigh and hugged her curves in all the right places. The color also made her just beginning to tan skin glow.  
  
Lust shot straight through Dean and curled in his stomach as he watched her walk from the entrance to the bar. He tuned his ear to the greasy bartender, by the name of Coleman, who greeted her with a welcoming smile. “Emily. Where are the rest of the girls tonight?” he asked reaching for a shot glass.  
  
Reflecting in the mirror behind the bar Dean caught the smile she flashed the man in return. “That’s a long _boring_ story,” he heard her, Emily, say as she slid onto the stool gracefully.  
  
“Not a problem,” the barkeep answered as he poured her some tequila. Dean watched as she nodded her thanks and Coleman set a shaker of salt in front of her. The man then turned and reached for slice of lemon. “Lick it, slam it, suck it,” he stated offering her the slice.  
  
Dean enjoyed the sound of her rich laughter. It was obvious from the conversation that she familiar with the bartender, perhaps even a regular. A class act in a worn out place like this didn’t fit, but the dichotomy only served to pique his interest more. “We’ll never live that down will we?” she asked, her voice playful as she took the lemon from him.  
  
“Are you kidding? That was one of the highlights of my life,” Coleman stated.  
  
“Well I’m glad someone has positive memories from that night,” she said before doing her shot. Dean was well aware that he wasn’t the only guy watching Emily with rapt attention as her tongue slid over the tender flesh between her thumb and index finger before she downed the tequila like a pro and bit into the tangy flesh of the lemon.  
  
Harder than he’d been in months he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Coleman was offering Emily another round, but she waved off the drink. “Thanks, but I don’t put on shows without backup, but I will take a beer.”  
  
“You’ve got it.”  
  
He watched as Emily shifted slightly on the stool to look over her right shoulder. Dean wasn’t sure what she was considering until she turned back to Coleman and asked, “Do you know who Dean is?” Hearing her say his name surprised him for a moment until he realized what she’d been looking at – the chalkboard with the line for the pool table. His name was next on the list and was without a partner because Sammy insisted on staying at the motel to research the going-ons at the Port Charles Harbor.  
  
“I think that’s him over there,” Coleman said motion towards him.  
  
“Thanks,” Emily said, grabbing her beer and purse before turning to face him. She was in position to slide off the stool when she made eye contact with him. Their eyes met and dueled for a moment, before a slow grin spread across her face. His wordless challenge had been received and accepted.  
  
“Dean?” she asked coming to stop in front of his table.  
  
“That’s me,” he replied beaming up at her. “What can I do for you, _Emily_?”  
  
He’d said her name to throw her off, but she didn’t miss a beat. “You have the pool table next. Mind if I horn in?”  
  
“Depends,” he answered, scratching his chin. “You any good?”  


“I’m still learning,” she answered. “Aim and shoot right?”  
  
“It’s a little bit more than that,” Dean said as he used his foot to nudge the chair across the table from him out so she could sit down. “It looks like we have a few minutes. I’ll give you some pointers on nine-ball.”  
  
“I’m all ears,” Emily told him, clearly pleased, as she sat down. Dean waited until her purse and beer were on the table, and her full attention was on him before he started to explain how the game was played.  
  
\---  
  
As Emily pocketed the last ball Dean stared at her slightly awe-struck. “You hustled me.” He didn’t know what was the bigger turn on was, her pool game or that she managed to con him. She giggled at his statement and his blue eyes narrowed. “What’s a foot spot?” he asked in a mocking tone.  
  
She was leaning against the aging table; her dark eyes were shining with amusement as she struggled to catch her breath. “You’re the one who bought it.”  
  
“Don’t remind me,” he growled. “Where did a girl like you learn to shoot like?”  
  
“A girl like me?” Emily asked slightly affronted. Taking on a defensive position she crossed her arms in front her.  
  
Dean rested his hands on table, caging her, and leaned in. Her breath caught as she tilted her head up to keep his gaze. “You’re a little dressed up for a place like this,” he pointed out.  
  
“I didn’t realize Jake’s a dress code,” she shot back, “but I can assure you that I own a pair of jeans and t-shirt.”  
  
“Which probably cost you fifty bucks a piece.”  
  
Her anger darkened her eyes and brought a flush to her cheeks. “I think that makes you the snob, not me,” she said uncrossing her arms and laying her hands on his stomach. Emily pushed, but he didn’t budge. Dean could feel confusion and tension radiating off her as she studied him. He wasn’t sure what she was thinking, but watching her do it was an experience.  
  
He knew the moment she came to her decision. He’d expected her call out to her friend, the barkeep. Instead her fingers curled around his shabby grey shirt as she yanked him forward. Their lips met and fused together in an electric kiss.  
  
\---  
  
Emily had suspected that Dean would be a good kisser, with a pretty face like his she was certain he’d have plenty of opportunities to practice, and she was right. His lips were warm and firm against hers and when his teeth nipped against her lower lip she opened up to him willingly.  
  
Sensations overtook her then. The pressure of Dean against her, pushing her into the pool table. The glide of his tongue over hers. The feel of his rough his hands cupping her face as he angled her head to deepen the kiss.  
  
Need, bright and hot, built up inside her. It didn’t matter that Dean was stranger or that they were in a public place. All she wanted was for Dean to continue to kiss her – say forever.  
  
The consuming kiss came to an abrupt halt when Dean backed away from her, blue eyes blazing and hair sopping after Coleman dumped a pitcher of water on him. “What the hell dude?” he snapped moving in on the bartender.  
  
By the way Dean had his hands curled; Emily could tell he was getting ready to throw a punch. “This is PUBLIC place,” Coleman told him.  
  
“So?”  
  
Coleman looked past Dean to her. “He was all over you Emily.”  
  
“Did you hear her complaining?” Dean asked his voice barely contained fury.  
  
“I kissed him Coleman,” she said stepping between the two men. The last thing she needed was this night to end in a brawl. The cops would be contacted and with the ways things had been going for her of late Lucky would be one of the cops who answered call. Wouldn’t that be lovely? Explaining to her oldest friend, who was also Nikolas’ brother, why she kissing some random guy.  
  
“A few more minutes and you two would have been putting on a show.”  
  
“Like hell,” was muttered from behind her.  
  
Coleman gazed at them skeptically. “Look, you can do what you want, but that doesn’t mean you can do it on my pool table.”  
  
“That’s it,” Dean snarled diving forward. Coleman dodged out of Dean’s way and two of the regulars jumped up to help him. Seeing the other men caused Dean to stop, but he was still glaring daggers at Coleman. “I guess I’ve worn out my welcome then,” he said rolling his shoulders.  
  
He crossed the bar to grab his jacket and the guys who leapt up settled back down at their table. Coleman made for neutral ground behind the bar and asked, “Do you need cab Emily?”  
  
“I can give you a lift,” Dean said from beside her. He held her purse awkwardly in his hands. The thoughtful gesture eased way the last of her mounting tension.  
  
“I could call Jason for you?” Coleman offered.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye Emily saw Dean tense. Lovely, she thought, annoy the hot guy and remind me of the fact that everyone thinks I need to be protected. “I’m an adult Coleman. I don’t need my brother to ride to my rescue. And, yes, I could use a ride,” she told Dean. “That is if the offer stands.”  
  
He flashed his dimples, “It does.”  
  
\---  
  
Dean handed Emily her purse and saluted the bartender before exiting the bar. “Friendly town,” he comment as Emily walked in step with him.  
  
“It has its moments,” she remarked and Dean wondered if she was regretting not having Coleman call her brother or the cab with each step they took. She didn’t seem nervous. Admittedly, she duped him at pool, but his initial assessment of her held firm. She wasn’t one of those ditzy bar fly girls, who had more boobs then brains. “This one is mine,” he told her tapping on the hood of the Impala.  
  
He kept walking and it wasn’t until he was opening his door that he realized Emily was still in front of the car. She was staring down at the sleek muscle car with a mysterious look on her face. Was he supposed to open her door for her or something? Dean wondered. “Everything all right?”

 

“Hmm,” she sounded sparing him a glance before her attention went back to the car. He watched as she stepped forward and touched the hood. “She’s beautiful.”  
  
Dean had to fight back a moan when Emily loving stroked his car. She could kick his butt at pool, kiss him with abandonment and realized how magnificent the Impala was – if she knew how to play cards he’d be a goner, he thought as he made his back to the front of the car. “Yeah she is,” he said placing a hand on Emily’s hip, “but wait till we get her on the road.”  
  
Emily smiled up at him as he ushered her to the car door, which he swung open. It was most gallant he’d ever been. She lean over the open door and kissed his cheek. “I can’t wait,” she said pulling back and sliding into the Impala.  
  
He let out a whistle as he closed the door.  
  
\---  
  
The car purred to life. It was a sound that reminded Emily of Jason’s motorcycle. The hum of an engine and the feel of wind and speed that was a small pleasure she hadn’t partaken in for quite some time. “Mind if I open the window?”  
  
“Nope,” Dean answered without out looking at her.  
  
Emily rolled the window down and leaned back against the seat, her head listing to the right so the wind could caress her face. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the sound of the engine, the wind and the feel of the car eating up the asphalt underneath them.  
  
“She’s a smooth ride,” she said after few minutes of silence.  
  
“Best ride there is,” Dean replied. “So where to?”  
  
Good question Emily thought, as she drummed her fingers against the door. The answer all depended on whether or not she wanted to finish what she and Dean started. She’d never done the causal sex thing or the casual relationship for that matter. Outside of her crush for Nikolas, she’d gone from her first boyfriend to her first great love, before her romantic courtship with Nikolas, who was quite possibly her soul mate. Not that they could make a relationship work. Pre- or Post- Sonny.  
  
She was serial monogamist, but maybe that’s how she was built. Emily wasn’t sure though because she never tried. Looking at the gorgeous man sitting next to her she could see the advantages of giving it shot. At least once.  
  
Of course taking him back to her place was out of the question. A strange car in the Quartermaine driveway would lead to a family interrogation. Emily had no doubt that if Edward caught sight of Dean he’d label him a “hoodlum” just like every other guy she dated. Maybe she really did have a type, but that was one of those preconceived notions she was trying to break.  
  
“I live with my family. My very loud, obnoxious, and _nosey_ family.”  


“I’m sharing a tiny hotel room with my brother.”  
  
“Perfect,” Emily sighed.  
  
\---  
  
Dean looked up at the Metro Court, even from the outside the place looked swanky not to mention way too expensive. It also served as another reminder about how different Emily was from him. “You’re being a snob again,” she said grabbing his hand. She had to tug him the first few steps as he watched the valet drive off in his car, but by the time they walked into the lobby they were in step again.  
  
The thin, Asian man behind the counter beam at them. “Hi, Emily.”

  
“Hi, Marty,” she replied back returning his smile with one of her own. Dean couldn’t help but wonder if she was on friendly terms with everyone in town. Then again the bartender at Jake’s and the guy behind the counter at Metro Court, he was beginning to wonder if he really had misjudged her. “How is it being behind the desk again?” Emily inquired with genuine interest.  
  
“It was little nerve-wracking the first day, but now that the lobby remodeling is done everyone is settling back in,” he answered.  
  
“Good. I’m glad to hear that.”  
  
Marty looked from Emily to him, and back again. “Checking in?” he asked uncertainly.  
  
“Why else would we be at a hotel?” Dean remarked.  
  
“Right. Of course,” Marty chuckled. “It’s complimentary of course,” he said as he went about the process of checking them in. “Mr. Jacks and Mrs. Corinthos are offering everyone involved in the hostage situation,” Dean blinked at that, but Marty continued his ramble, “a free stay. My wife and I are using ours for our anniversary next month.”  
  
“I’m sure you’ll have lovely time,” Emily replied as Marty handed her the keycard.  
  
“Thank you. Have a pleasant stay.” The man blushed at his own words and glanced away from them.  
  
Color also crept up Emily’s face, but neither he nor she said anything. They walked to the elevator in silence and Dean jabbed the button. As they waited he tried picturing Emily in hostage crisis. Having experience one himself he knew they weren’t a barrel of laughs, but he hadn’t expected to have that experience in common with her.  
  
The doors slid open with a ding and he held his arm out so Emily could step in first. She pushed the button for their floor as he stepped in. The silence between them was beginning to grow heavy still Dean waited for the doors to close before saying, “Hostage crisis? You keep getting more interesting, you know that?”  
  
Emily let out a nervous laugh. “I’m thrilled you think so.”  
  
He started to reach for her, but the ding sounded again and doors opened on the fourth floor. Emily stepped out of the elevator and hurried down the hall to their room. She was sliding the keycard into the lock when Dean covered her hand with his own. “We don’t have to do this.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted them, but he’d been compelled to say them.  
  
She looked up over her shoulder at him. “I’ve never done this sort of thing before. I want you to know that.”  
  
“Emily—”  
  
“But I’m sure,” she continued as though he hadn’t said her name. “That is if you have protection. I’m not carrying because …”  
  
“Not your thing.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“Don’t worry. I’ve got it covered,” he assured her.  
  
\---  
  
Emily felt wonderfully spent as she lay on the bed, her body entangled with Dean’s. Never moving again sounded pretty good to her which is why she groaned when her cell rang. “Don’t get it,” Dean said into her ear, his arms squeezing her close to him.  
  
She kissed his neck because it was his nearest body part. “Sorry, have to,” she told him and rolled away. She managed to dig the phone out of her purse and answer it before it went to voicemail. “Hello, do you know what time it is?”  
  
“It’s your lucky day,” the familiar masculine voice informed her, ignoring her question.  
  
“Really?” Emily said fighting back a chuckle and asked, “Why is that?”  
  
“I have an emergency surgery perform – a head trauma from a car accident. We’ll be starting in twenty. If you can get here, I’ll let you scrub in to observe up close and personal.”  
  
“You’re kidding?” she squealed, leaping out of the bed.  
  
“I’m a man of my word.”  
  
“Thank you, so much Patrick,” she said scanning the floor for her discarded undergarments and dress. “I’ll be right there.” Emily exchanged a quick goodbye with him before crouching down to gather her things.  
  
“Something wrong?” Dean asked.  
  
Emily glanced up, but her long hair fell in front of her face. She pushed it back behind her ear and met his gaze. “No. Well kind of … it’s,” flustered she took a breath to calm herself. Shimming into her underwear she started over again. “That was Dr. Drake. He’s doing an emergency surgery and if I get to the hospital fast enough, I can observe.”  
  
She reached for her strapless bra as Dean asked, “So you’re a doctor?”  
  
“Yeah I am,” she answered snapping her bra. “I guess we didn’t cover the whole job, life, friends thing – you know typical first date talk,” Emily said as she pulled her dress haphazardly over her head.  
  
“No we didn’t,” he said getting up out of the bed. He was pulling on his pants, which was a shame because his naked body was quite a fantastic view, when he said, “I guess you’ll be needing another ride.”  
  
“If you don’t mind.”  
  
“No,” he answered pulling his shirt over his head.  
  
“Thanks. I really appreciate it and well before,” Emily said feeling the blush on her cheeks.  
  
“Me too,” Dean grinned.  
  
“Good. Great … I’m rambling. Sorry,” she muttered reaching for her purse. Emily saw the keycard lying next to it. “Did you want to come back here? After you drop me off, of course, to you know – to sleep,” she offered lamely.  
  
He was still grinning at her when she worked up the nerve to look at him again. “It’s hard to say no to place like this when I have crappy motel and my geeky brother waiting on me, but I really should meet up with him.”  
  
\---  
  
“General Hospital isn’t far,” Emily told him as he pulled out of valet alcove of the hotel. “Just stay on this street up to Jefferson,” she directed, “turn left and then it’s another three blocks, and another left, onto Hardy Way.”  
  
“Got it.”  
  
“So out of curiosity what do you?” she inquired.  
  
Dean’s hands tightened on the wheel. It felt a little late for one of his creative lives. “I work with my brother,” he hedged. “It keeps us traveling all over.”  
  
He waited for Emily to pepper him with more questions about his work, but she didn’t. Instead as he made the left onto Jefferson she asked, “How long are you guys going to be town?”  
  
“A few days,” Dean answered as the last three blocks sped by.  
  
“Up there,” Emily pointed, “by the emergency room entrance.”  
  
Dean made the right turn and pulled into the no parking zone. “Do doctors get wished a good surgery?” he asked.  
  
“Not usually, but thank you for everything,” Emily said leaning over to kiss his cheek. She started to pull back but stopped when he placed his hand over hers. She looked at him a second before asking, “A few days?”  
  
“Yeah.”  


“Maybe we could get together again?” she suggested the very thing he’d been thinking.  
  
“I’d like that,” he told her.  
  
Smiling, Emily unzipped her purse and pulled out a pen. She flipped his hand over and began writing on it. “It’s my cell,” she told when she was finished.  
  
“Dr. Quartermaine,” Dean read aloud as she slid out of the Impala. “That’s cute.”  
  
Emily ducked her back into the car. “So do I get a last name?”  
  
“Winchester,” Dean answered quickly, so he wouldn’t try to offer her a lie.  
  
\---  
  
Dean groaned as Sam helped him up from the water. Needing to catch his breath he waved his brother off and sank onto to the dock. Spending his night dealing with a water sprite was not his idea of fun, especially when this particular water pest knocked him into the cold water of the Port Charles harbor and played with him like its own person rubber ducky.  
  
“How are you feeling?” Sam asked kneeling over him. His brother was wearing his pensive face as he looked over for wounds.  
  
“How you think I feel?” Dean spat. “I’m wet, I’m cold, and my whole body aches.”  
  
“Come on,” Sam said offering his hand. “We need to get out of here.” No sooner then he said those words then they heard a pair of feet rushing down the steps.  
  
“Is he okay?” Dean heard the soft feminine voice asked. It sounded familiar, but his brain was still too fogged to place it.  
  
“He’s fine,” he heard Sam answer as he did best to block his form.  
  
“He doesn’t – Dean!” the woman exclaimed and then her face was floating above him. Emily. Emily who tasted good and felt soft and could beat him a pool.  
  
“Emily,” he grinned despite the pain. Dean reached up to touch her hair, which was pulled back, but her hand caught his and forced it back down.  
  
“You look awful,” she told him. He saw her shoot a death glare at Sam, before she turned her attention to examining his wounds.  
  
“He’s shivering,” Sam said, horning in on her. Even though his body was shaking Dean thought his brother sound melodramatic. “We need to get him off dock.”  
  
“You’re right. I’ll help you get him to the hospital,” Emily offered.  
  
“No,” Dean protested. “No hospitals.”  
  
“You’re hurt. Badly,” she stressed, “by the looks of things.”  
  
“No hospitals,” he repeated. Dean saw her turn to Sam for reinforcement but he shook his head no.  
  
“Fine,” she relented with sigh. “I know a place close by.”  
  
\---  
  
Sam couldn’t help but wonder why Dean was so willing to let this Emily chick help. Even if he was on a first name basis with her, their normal operating procedures would have them ditching her, by any means necessary, and getting back to motel so that he could check him out. Instead he was helping his brother up five flights of stairs in shoddy apartment building just off the docks.  
  
“My friend’s studio is here,” Emily explained as she opened the stairway door onto the fifth floor. “It’s the second door down. Just a few more steps,” she told Dean, who nodded his understanding.  
  
They got to door and she asked, “Can you hold him?”  
  
“Yeah,” he answered picking up more of Dean’s weight. Sam leveraged his brother against the wall as Emily hunched down.  
  
“It will be just a second,” she promised pulling a nail file out of her purse. Sam was about to ask her what she was doing when Emily pulled a bobby-pin out of her hair and began to pick the lock.  
  
“I thought this was your friend’s place,” he said nervously surveying the hall.  
  
“It is,” she replied, “but I don’t have a key.” Sam watched torn between frustration and admiration as she picked the lock. “I learned that from a friend of mine,” she said with satisfaction as she pushed open the door.  
  
Dean nudged him, “Sammy, I’m in love.”  
  
“Easy there cowboy,” he said helping his brother into the small space. Emily flicked on the lights and Sam saw the beat up couch he could ease Dean into. He was lowering him when heard the door shut. “I can handle it from here.”  
  
“Says you.”  
  
“I’ve patched him up plenty of times before,” Sam said turning towards her.  
  
“Are you doctor?” Emily challenged.  
  
“No but—”  
  
“Well I am,” she said pushing past him. “I also happen to know where the first aid kit is, so either I check Dean out or I call an ambulance.”  
  
Sam scowled at her, but relented. “Fine. Where’s the kit?”  
  
“Under the sink there,” she motioned. Sam heard her ask Dean how he was feeling.  
  
“Just peachy,” his brother answered.  
  
“Here you go,” Sam said offering Emily the kit. She surprised him when instead of taking it she clasped his wrist and examined his hands. “What are you doing?”  
  
“Just making sure you weren’t one who roughed him up,” she answered. Satisfied that he wasn’t she took the kit.  
  
“Not even on my worst day could Sammy take me,” Dean declared.  
  
\---  
  
Emily pressed gently into his ribs again. “You’re sure it doesn’t hurt.”  
  
“Just a little tender Doc,” Dean assured her. He sat on the couch in nothing but his boxers with a knitted blanket around him. He had four extra strength aspirin coursing through his system and a bandage on the gash over his right eye.  
  
Her borrow furled. “Now is not the time to be manly. You could have cracked ribs.”  
  
“Been there, felt that, and I don’t,” Dean informed her. “Now that the aspirin kicked in and I’m out of the wet clothes I feel fine.”  
  
“Fine?” she questioned still not certain.  
  
“Absolutely,” he promised with the Scout’s honor sign for extra emphasis.  
  
“You a Boy Scout? I don’t think so,” Emily laughed as she packed up the first aid kit.  
  
“No, but Sam wanted to be. He ran around with that silly bandana around his neck for almost a month.”  
  
“Did not,” his brother protested.  
  
“Oh yeah he did,” Dean snickered.  
  
“Children enough,” Emily said sternly, even though a smile touched her lips. “So, what exactly were you doing out on the docks?” she asked easing herself up off her knees and on the long wooden crate that was in front of the couch in lieu of a coffee table.  
  
“Nothing,” Sam answered. “Just taking in the sights.”  
  
“Of the harbor at night?” she questioned. “Next you’ll be telling me that you jumped into the harbor to go for a clumsy swim.”  
  
“Okay, so we weren’t sightseeing,” Dean said. “We were working.”  
  
“Dean,” Sam hissed.  
  
“Working.” The way Emily said the word made Dean nervous. “Are you guys cops?  
  
“Cops?” Sam asked incredulously.  
  
“No way,” Dean exclaimed. “Not that we have anything against cops … well all of them.”  
  
If anything their response made Emily look more apprehensive. “Are you two mobsters?”  
  
“Mobsters? Like The Godfather? You’re joking right?” Sam stated as he looked to him for a reason she’d be asking them a question like that.  
  
“That’s not an answer,” Emily replied.  
  
“Yeah, well a question like that doesn’t deserve one,” Sam remarked.  
  
“Fine,” she said and reached for her purse. Dean was trying to figure out why her line of questioning jumped from cops to mobsters when she pulled out her cell.  
  
“Woah. Wait. No cops,” he said reaching for her phone.  
  
Emily dodged him. “I’m not calling the cops. I’m calling my brother.”  
  
“That’s pointless,” Sam argued. “We’re not cops or mobsters.”  
  
“But Jason is,” Dean said piecing it all together.  
  
“Her brother is a cop?”  
  
“No genius, he’s a mobster.”  
  
“Coffee importer,” Emily corrected.  
  
“Whatever he is, he’s not the reason we were on the docks,” Dean guaranteed her. “Sam and I were just doing our job.”  
  
“That vague thing you reference which has you traveling around?” she questioned.  
  
“Yeah pretty much.”  
  
She looked back and forth between them and Dean could see her mind working again, though this time he knew what Emily was thinking. She was wondering if she could trust them and also perhaps, if she’d slept with a man who was after her brother. Being as protective of Sam as was, Dean knew that question wouldn’t sit well with him.  
  
When she lowered the phone to the crate Dean figured that she decided to trust them and for that he was grateful. “So this business of yours – is it completed?” Emily queried.  
  
“That is,” Sam answered, “and we’re heading out first thing in the morning. We’ll go now if you prefer.”  
  
“Like hell,” Dean growled. Sam looked at him with confusion. “Say goodnight Sammy.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Take a hint and vamoose,” he ordered.  
  
“You really think I’m going to sleep with you again?” Emily asked amusement shimmering in her eyes.  
  
“I know it. Now get lost Sam,” Dean repeated.


End file.
